Ambience
by Raetrii
Summary: Âme House: a shelter surrounded by mysterious – and dark – stories. However, they have nowhere else to go, and so Sheik and Link find themselves in the gloomy Âme House.
1. Cold Winds

**Chapter One: Cold Winds**

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?" Sheik's voice was touched with uncertainty, arms folded across his chest as he paused mid-step, slender fingers toying with the hem of his overly-large jacket (the sleeves had been rolled up several times to allow him the use of his hands; he wasn't entirely _keen _on how he looked at the moment, but hey. At least he was warmer than he had been).

"No," Link responded honestly, turning about to face his friend, "but what choice do we have?" Hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his well-worn sweater, head tilted to the side as he examined Sheik with an almost _tired _gaze. "You know how it's been." The nights had been getting colder, making it more difficult for those who lived on the streets, and that, combined with how Sheik's health had been going, was leading the two to make a rather difficult decision.

Sheik sighed, thin shoulders slumping, though the action was all but lost beneath the rather _bulky_ jacket that seemed to swallow his thin form. "…Yes, I know. But do we really _have _to go to _that _place?" His nose wrinkled slightly as he spoke, frown twisting chapped lips.

"It's the closest one," Link responded, turning and beginning to walk again, footsteps echoing around the desert street. Everyone else was at home, or had found some manner of shelter, Sheik supposed – and that was wise of them. The weather had been terribly bitter lately. "And _you_ couldn't make it much farther, I think. You look exhausted."

Link's words, while not entirely untrue, served to irk Sheik for some reason that the smaller blond could not explain. Maybe it was because Link was right; Sheik _did_ look exhausted, dark circles beneath brown eyes, his complexion far paler than it normally was, and the very way that he held himself was _off. _Generally speaking, Sheik held himself with something akin to pride, despite his place in the world; his head would be held high, posture impeccable despite his smaller stature– But now, thin shoulders were slumped, his gaze downcast.

Sighing, Sheik hurried to catch up with his companion, shivering as a cold wind blew. "But do we _really _have to go to _that _place? You know what people say about it–"

Link tilted his head slightly, glancing at Sheik. "They're just _stories, _Sheik. There's no truth to them."

Sheik shook his head, letting out a long breath. Honestly, Link of all people should know better than to say things like that – each story had a grain of truth in it, after all… Especially stories like those that surrounded the place that the two young men were going. Sheik, however, knew that Link would not be so easily dissuaded when he had his mind made up like he did now: it would take something drastic to make him back out – and Sheik would not simply leave his friend, no matter how much his instincts told him to. If Link wanted to do something stupid, then so be it; Sheik could not stop him. Nor would he simply leave Link to his own devices, though; the two had been through a lot together, and so Sheik would stay with his friend even if he did not agree with what the other blond was going to do.

Fifteen minutes later found the two of them standing at the beginning of a long drive that was lined by skeletal trees on either side. Sheik didn't like it; the place had a strange air about it, he thought – one that almost _scared _him. He couldn't quite place why, but it gave him a bad feeling: a shiver ran through his body, and he sucked in a sharp breath. There was a _buzzing _in the air, a _buzzing _on the edge of his hearing– No, it wasn't buzzing, it was a _whisper_–

"…You comin', Sheik?"

Link's voice pulled Sheik from his thoughts, and the slim blond mentally shook himself. _That _had certainly been a strange feeling… Where had it come from? "Sorry," he mumbled, jogging a few steps to catch up with Link, who had already started down the winding drive. "I… got dizzy for a second." A worried look was thrown his way, and Sheik managed a shaky smile. "It it nothing, though, don't worry."

On both sides, skeletal trees arched up towards the overcast sky, bony 'fingers' stretched for _something_, seeming to grasp futilely, inches short of what they wanted. Sheik didn't like it; the entire place gave him a bad feeling, and he couldn't shake the sensation that there was _something _just on the edge of his hearing. It was akin to a buzz – though, sometimes he thought he could make out a _whisper, _a word that he could almost understand. Part of him wanted to strain to make out what was being said, but a feeling (instinct, perhaps) told him that to do so would be a bad idea. A heavy ball of dread seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach: there was something going on here, and Sheik didn't like it.

Another shudder ran through Sheik's body, the back of his neck prickling as if someone was staring at him. It was a _bad _idea to come here, he _knew _it, but he couldn't simply turn and leave. Link would want an explanation, and Sheik didn't know what he'd tell his friend. The simple fact that there was a bad air about the place wasn't good enough, and he knew it. There had to be some other reason, but whatever it was, there was no way for Sheik to put it into words. It was simply… a _feeling. _Perhaps it was some portion of his primal instinct, perhaps not. Whatever it was, it was there, and he couldn't shake it.

As the two rounded another curve in silence (any attempt at conversation on Link's part had been met with nothing more than nervous quietness from Sheik), a mansion came into view. At one point, the building had evidently been quite majestic: that much was for certain. It rose from the ground, looking as if it had just fallen from the pages of some gothic Victorian novel. It was all arching windows and towers, delicate woodwork decorating the doors and windowsills: while it was true that the paint was faded and peeling in some places, the house was _still _quite impressive in its appearance. Despite its almost regal appearance, however, the rather _eerie _aura that surrounded the place was only aided by the skeletal trees, stripped of their leaves, that surrounded the building and danced in the cold wind that whispered by.

"…Well, doesn't _this _have a nice atmosphere?" Link's voice was light as he spoke, though Sheik could tell that his friend was just as unnerved as he himself was. "_Just_ the kinda place where I want to spend the winter months."

Sheik rolled his eyes, though he was secretly glad for Link's attempt at lightening the mood. The place was… not exactly one that Sheik would frequent if he could avoid it; the air seemed too heavy, and there was _something _lingering about – he could feel it. It seemed to press down on him, running its fingers down his back, tracing his spine: it was _quite _disconcerting, and Sheik didn't like it. He could only hope that he would either grow accustomed to it, or that it would pass – if he had to spend a few months like this… Well, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't lose his mind.

"Let's go inside, yes…?" Sheik murmured, taking the lead, his careful footsteps leading him up the old, brick pathway to the peeling door. Muddy bricks were raised, some having shifted from their original homes years ago, by the looks of things. Sheik didn't know what to make of it, honestly; the entire place felt wrong to him for some reason that he couldn't place. The buzzing (whispering?) that he had heard upon first passing over the boundary onto the property was still there, but he didn't know if he was imagining it or not. Maybe this was all in his head–?

No, it wasn't. It felt far too _real _to simply be a figment of his imagination.

Feeling Link come to a halt beside him on the front porch, Sheik hesitated only a brief moment before raising a shaking hand (shaking from the _cold_, he told himself, it was all the cold and not something silly like fear) to knock on the door, little flakes of paint drifting to the ground courtesy of his actions.

"What a high-end place…" Link's muttered words pulled a quiet chuckle from Sheik despite the rather somber atmosphere. "Definitely going to get our money's worth, eh?"

Sheik didn't have a chance to respond before the door swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman, silver-grey hair pulled back into a stern bun. Sharp eyes, framed by spectacles, took in the appearance of the two young men before her: Sheik felt as if she could see into his very soul when she looked at him, her alert, rather birdlike, eyes meeting his dark gaze only for the briefest of moments before she glanced against at Link.

"Can I _help _you?" the woman asked, her tone crisp and professional. It fit her, Sheik thought; the very way she held herself seemed to exude confidence and expertise. Her clothing was neat, her posture impeccable… If anything, she was the poster-girl for competence.

"…We were hopin' that we could spend a little while here." Link was the one to speak, taking a half-step forward as he did so. "Someone told us about it, said that it was the best place to go if we needed a place to stay–"

That, of course, was a lie and Sheik knew it (and he was fairly certain that the woman in the door did too, if her disproving gaze was any indication). The duo had been warned to stay away by most everyone that they talked to; this place was bad news, or so people said. 'Stay away from Âme House', was what everyone who asked was told. Only those with nowhere else to go would end up there, and those that _did_ hoped that they could get out quickly.

A quiet silence followed, the tension almost tangible. "In that case… Come inside," the woman stated crisply, stepping aside and pushing the door open further to allow the two boys passage.

Sheik hesitated a moment before following Link inside the house, teeth worrying his lower lip for a moment. He didn't like this place at all, honestly, and a sense of dread came over him at the thought of going into Âme House. There were so many stories surrounding the place, and it was difficult to separate fact from fiction… Sheik knew, though, knew better than anyone else, that in every story there was some grain of truth, no matter how small.

Drawing a long breath, the slim blond steeled himself and, placing one foot in front of the other, made himself move forward, crossing the threshold into the Âme House.

When the door closed behind him, there was almost something final – _ominous __– _about the way the thud echoed through the old house. Sheik couldn't help but feel trapped; sometimes told him that when –_if_ – he left, things would be different. Things would be _quite _different.

_**To be continued.**_


	2. Âme House

**Chapter Two: ****Â****me House **

Glancing about, Link took in his new surroundings. It was something else, all right: he'd never quite seen a place like this before. It was far _fancier _than he'd anticipated, honestly; given the tales surrounding the place, he had expected something _gloomy, _and perhaps quite _old_ in appearance, but instead he was faced with a brightly lit entryway, the walls painted a deep, warm red, giving the entire place an almost _cozy _feeling. Many pairs of shoes were lined up along the wall, like one might see in any normal house, and Link found himself questioning whether or not the stories about Âme House were _true. _Surely a place surrounded by stories are dark as the ones that he had heard was meant to be… _eerier, _not this warm and almost _welcoming _place.

"Follow me," the middle-aged woman said crisply, turning and beginning to walk away. "…And please, remove your shoes. It would not _do _to have mud tracked all over the floor."

Sheik and Link exchanged looks, quickly removing their well-worn sneakers and trailing after the woman. Link felt decidedly out of place: this house (mansion?) was _quite _a lot more grand than he had expected it to be. Stepping out of the entryway, shoes removed, the duo was met with a room lined with doors, a ceiling arching high above them. The entire room was a little gloomy, courtesy of the high ceiling, but lamps hung on the dark walls are regular intervals, chasing away some of the shadows.

Off to their left, a wooden staircase curled its way up to the second floor, a fancy handrail adorning the side. On the aforementioned staircase stood the silver-haired lady, dark eyes examining the two of them with an indistinguishable gaze. "Come _along,_" she said, tone a little sharp. "And do keep close. The house is rather large, and it would not do for you to get lost." Her shoes clicked against the wooden stairs as she began to ascend, and Link wondered why _she _got to keep her shoes on while everyone else apparently had to take theirs off. His feet, now covered with just holey socks, were growing rather cold.

The two young men trailed along after her, Sheik staying rather close to Link. The smaller of the two blonds seemed to be rather _tense, _Link noted, and he wondered what was wrong. Sheik normally was rather calm, nothing seeming to make him too agitated unless something was _very _wrong_. _Then, and only then, would he grow wary: however, Link saw no cause for him to be in such a state in this place (though, he himself was still a little worried, given all the stories that surrounded Âme House… Still, it didn't seem _that _bad).

At the top of the stairs, the were met with a long hall, lined on either side with closed doors. It was gloomy up here, though lights hung on the walls: the majority of these lights, though, were out, those that were glowing only serving to cast dark shadows over the hall. Link shivered, suddenly recalling with acute accuracy all the stories that he had been told by those that had either visited Âme House for themselves, or had friends who had done so.

"…I don't like it." Sheik's low voice caught Link's attention, and he noted the _tense _note that laced the frailer blond's tone. "It's… _wrong._" A muffled cough punctuated his words, the sound a dry one that made Link's own throat ache.

Link made an attempt at giving Sheik a reassuring smile, though he was quite certain that he failed. "Yeah, but we _have _to. For your sake." This statement was met with nothing more than a shake of Sheik's head and a soft sigh, which was followed by another muffled cough, Sheik stifling it with his hand.

The sound of a door clicking open caught their attention, and Link felt, rather than saw, Sheik tense beside him. Link almost instinctively shifted closer to Sheik: this was how it had been for the past few years. Link would do his best to keep Sheik safe, even though Sheik insisted that he could look after himself. Perhaps it was because Sheik was the only person that Link really trusted in this world (that, and Sheik was so very _frail _in his appearance), but whatever the case, Link always looked out for the his friend.

However, the sudden protectiveness was uncalled for; the source of the noise was easily found. Several feet away, their guide was standing beside a now open door, arms folded across her chest, causing her neatly-pressed blouse to crease. Glasses glinted in the low light, and the two young men hurried to catch up with her, the only real sound their footfalls. It was at this moment that Link realized that the place was entirely too _quiet. _This was meant to be a place for kids such as themselves to go when they needed a place to stay: surely there were more people than just themselves in this place. There had been quite a few pairs of shoes in the entryway, after all…

Shaking such thoughts from his mind as they quite disturbed him, Link drew a slow breath, hesitating outside the open door, Sheik a mere few inches away from him. The bespectacled woman caught Link's gaze, uncertain blue eyes meeting a sharp dark, and she motioned for them to enter the room.

Sheik entered first, Link following after him. They were met with an office of sorts, the windows opposite the doors overlooking the dark woods that surrounded Âme House. A large wooden desk took up a good part of the rather small room: a little lamp sat on the desk, feebly attempting to light up the gloomy room. Link wondered if he'd been wrong with his first impressions of the place; the entryway had been almost _welcoming, _but there were so many dark shadows… It didn't seem _right _to him. Maybe, though, it was just his imagination taking over, remaining him of all the stories that he'd heard about the place.

Sitting behind the feather stately wooden desk was a large man: his skin was darker, though his hair was almost _red _in colour. It was difficult to make out many of his features as the room was quite _dark, _but Link thought that the man was rather intimidating. Perhaps it was because of _big _he looked, even sitting down behind a desk: it was evident even then that this man was tall and quite muscular.

"New arrivals, sir." Link hadn't noticed their guide entering the room, but there she stood beside them, her tone as crisp and clear as always. He thought that he heard something of an accent when she spoke, but he wasn't certain – if it _was _an accent, it wasn't any that he'd ever heard before.

A finger was held up by the man behind the desk, signifying that they should wait a moment while he finished reading the paper before him. The silence in the room seemed _tangible _to Link, and he could almost feel how tense Sheik was beside him. Something obviously wasn't sitting well with his friend, but he wasn't sure what: then again, Sheik had always been more sensitive to things, shifts in the air, than he himself was.

"Now… New arrivals, you say?" The man behind the desk spoke, his voice a deep baritone touched with an accent that Link hadn't heard before. It almost made him shiver, though he didn't know _why. _"That _always _is a pleasure." Shifting forward slightly, the man's features were brought into the low light of the room, something akin to a faint smile playing about dark features. "You can call me Mr. Dragmire."

"I'm… Link, and this is Sheik." Link didn't make a move to offer their last names: he didn't see a point in doing so. At any rate, he knew that Sheik wasn't entirely comfortable here, and he saw no point in making his friend any _less _at ease than he already was. Sheik wasn't the kind to give out information when he didn't have to, after all.

"A pleasure," Mr. Dragmire said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "You are here to escape the cold, I wager. It _has _been rather chilly outside lately, hasn't it?"

Link made a quiet noise of agreement, Sheik simply nodding. Link cast a sideways glance at his friend, noting that Sheik's dark eyes were lowered, focusing on the ground before him instead of the man sitting behind the desk. Link thought that was rather odd; generally speaking, Sheik always looked people dead in the eye, almost challenging them, despite his rather small stature.

"Well, you two are more than welcome here," Mr. Dragmire stated, a smile curving his lips (Link could tell despite the shadows that he was smiling from the way the man's teeth glinted in the low light), though it did not touch his deep voice. "We have _plenty _of room, I assure you."

There was a pause before anyone said anything, the tension in the air almost tangible. Link wondered why the atmosphere was like that; there was no cause for it, as far as he could tell. After all, it wasn't as if something terrible had been said… It was just a simple greeting, and an assurance that he and Sheik now had a safe place to spend the winter. (Well, he said _safe, _but he wasn't entirely certain that it _was _safe. There were so many terrible stories about this place, disappearances and death– But it was the closest shelter, and he wasn't certain that Sheik could have gone much further.)

"…Thank you," Sheik murmured, speaking for the first time in a while, though his gaze did not raise from where he was focused on the floor. "We… appreciate it." Link nodded his agreement, forcing a small smile.

"Miss Nasim, could you please take these boys to the dining hall…? It is _almost _time for supper, I do believe. You two came at a good time, I see." The last part was directed at the two blond boys, another insincere smile being flashed in their direction.

As they were lead down the hall, trailing a few feet after Miss Nasim, as it seemed that silver-haired woman was called, Sheik nudged Link. Blue eyes flickered to meet deep brown (and Link noticed the dark circles surrounding those eyes), a brow arching inquisitively.

"…Can you hear it?" Sheik whispered, looking a little scared – an expression that Link wasn't used to seeing on familiar tanned features. "The whispering, I mean…"

Link paused, cocking his head to the side as he listened. "No," he responded honestly, "I can't." He didn't ask about it, though; he knew he would get the same response that he always did: a quiet 'Oh, I see…', and then Sheik would retreat into his own mind.

Sheik fidgeted, slender fingers tugging at the hem of his oversized shirt that seemed to swallow his slim form beneath his even bigger jacket. "…But, it is so _loud_…"

Link shook his head, hesitating before he spoke again. "I really can't hear anything. But, I believe you." There was no way that Sheik could be lying from the way that he spoke – and this wasn't the first time that he had heard something that Link couldn't. Other times, he'd wondered if Sheik was simply making things up, but this was one of the times where he _knew _that Sheik was being completely honest with him.

There was something about this place that wasn't quite right, and Sheik was picking up on it.

Despite himself, Link shivered, shoving his hands into his pockets as they descended the stairs, the wood creaking beneath their weight. He resisted the urge to glance about, doing his best to talk himself out of this irrational fear – they had to stay here for Sheik's sake, even if there was something strange about it. Sheik was getting ill, and being in the cold would only make it worse… And so, they would have to tough it out.

Quietly, he promised himself that he would do his best to make sure that Sheik was safe, even if there wasn't much he could do about it. Whatever was going on here, he was deaf to it – despite that, he would still do his best. It _was _his job, after all, or so he had been told.

_**To be continued.**_


End file.
